


i've got you

by thirixm



Category: Chess - Rice/Ulvaeus/Andersson
Genre: Florence and Svetlana are mentioned, M/M, their relationship doesn't really happen until the end, transition happens really fast blink and you'll miss it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27633344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirixm/pseuds/thirixm
Summary: "When I first met you, I felt kind of a contradiction in you. You’re seeking something, but at the same time, you are running away for all you’re worth." -Haruki Murakami
Relationships: Anatoly Sergievsky/Frederick Trumper
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	i've got you

Freddie first noticed his unkempt, curly hair. It was in Merano, Italy, when they went face to face for the title of world champion. He was timely, and prim and proper. The soviets must pamper their best player well, but the mess laid in the nest on his head and the darkness in the pupils of his eyes told him that pampering can only go so far.

Despite all the inconveniences, Anatoly took the title for himself but he looked void of his victory. That’s what he gets for treating chess like a sport rather than a game, he thought. It’s what he gets for taking the little he had away from him. Anatoly appeared before his hotel door that night.

“What? Have you come to gloat?” he asked.

“No, I just came here to say that you played well. I am lucky to have learned a lot from our game.” He offered out a hand. It was bad enough that Freddie had to resign with the same handshake. Nobody was watching, but humiliation still stirred his mind.

“Stick it up yours, Sergievsky.” And he slammed the door.

When Anatoly exiled himself from Russia for a woman - his second - Freddie wondered if he even had ambitions worth pursuing. He won for his country, then promptly ran away because, what, the hard dick between his legs told him to? 

Bangkok was no romantic place. It was dirty, crowded, but bustled with life and an amalgamation of street food mingled in the air. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t indulge himself in some. He wasn’t where he wanted to be, though. He found Anatoly’s hotel room and knocked. He knew he should’ve expected to see Florence, but he asked for Anatoly instead.

“You cleaned up well for yourself,” Anatoly said when he pliantly agreed to talk to him in the hallway.

“And you became a traitor. Guess we’re even.”

“Why are you here?” Impatience edged his voice. Freddie can hear it.

“Your wife is coming out here to Bangkok.”

“Svetlana?”

All he wanted to do was burst out in a fit of anger. Rip into the Russian by the inch of his life and leave him to mull over his recklessness. Perhaps a year ago he would’ve, but his reputation laid in Global. He needs to pay his rent somehow.

The night before Anatoly’s final match, Freddie invited himself over to discuss variations. It consisted of the two of them on the carpeted floor with a chessboard between them. They had spoken prior, with Anatoly’s bed empty next to him and a sudden urge to play into his preplanned loss. Freddie cursed at him and told him to suck a dick while he’s at it, but the tension resolved itself when they spoke about the game.

“If you lose, you’re better off losing as black anyway,” Freddie finished.

“If so, why go through this effort to help?”

“Because you’re a sad excuse of a man.”

Anatoly can’t fault his bluntness. It was something he needed among the praise and sneering, both from the press.

“You think you know what you want, then throw it away in the trash. Your stupid marriage and following affair covered up your incompetence at everything else but chess. You’re a pathetic mess who can’t see your own potential.”

He thinks he can fault his bluntness to an extent, but he can still hear a hint of endearment if he strained his ears hard enough.

“I’ve played against you. When you were playing for the soviets, you played to win, not to learn. You’re complete bullshit, but it’s going to be different this time. Win because you’ve got nobody left.”

“I have…” he hesitated, eyes flicking down to the board before back up to Freddie. “You. Do I not?”

He scoffed, unable to meet his gaze.

“I’d like to play with you again after everything blows by. As a friendly match this time.”

Anatoly can’t say he exactly met that promise very soon. When he won, he returned to Russia, but even so, still returned to America some years later and intended to meet Freddie by the steps of his home. It was bitter and cold, and Freddie made it clear that he’s not leaving the warmth of his house to greet him outside in the snow.

“New chess set?” he asked as he hung up his coat.

“Yeah. Sort of splurged on this one.”

He raised an eyebrow, observing the meticulously carved pieces. The wood alone must’ve been expensive, let alone whatever brand name he decided to pay for alongside it. It’s the only thing that stands out in his plain living space.

“Because I was coming over?”

His wordless response answered his question.

Every time Freddie glanced up at Anatoly, he looked more certain of himself than when he first saw him in Italy. When Anatoly stopped covering up his failures with unsuccessful relationships, he found Freddie. He was blunt, and brash, and ran his mouth when he was feeling particularly hostile. He helped him.

“Stay for the holidays?” Freddie asked behind a shy hand as he moved a bishop.

“Of course,” he responded, exchanging his bishop for a knight. “Check.”


End file.
